one for you, hale
by smileyfacebabe
Summary: Derek returns, gets an apartment (like a regular adult human being), goes grocery shopping, and finds out that the only person in this town that isn't surprised he's back is Stiles. He deserves a metal, honestly. Sterek.


Author's Note: I'm so _pissed_. I hit post limit just before I could post this on tumblr and didn't notice. URGH. Anyway, here's this.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything leave me alone I'm _so mad right now_.

* * *

Isaac was awkward, when Derek turned around and saw him. They were on opposite sides of the road, but the boy stopped and froze as if it would make it harder for him to be spotted. Which, considering the last thing the boy had said to him, seemed like a normal response.

To a fucking abusive father, maybe. Fuck, he had messed up so much.

Derek sighed while Isaac stared at him, all wide terrified eyes and slightly open mouth. After a few seconds Allison came out of the store he was standing outside, tugging on the boy's sleeve to get this attention.

"Derek's back," he heard the blond tell her. Which really sort of answered the question of who his teenagers were dating this month, not that he had been curious or concerned. (He had been so curious he had almost texted Stiles twice to find out the outcome of that triangle thing coming on. He hadn't been sure if Isaac would end up with Scott or Allison when he left and the question had haunted him all the way to the border and back. It was sad enough that he wasn't going to admit it, ever.)

Allison glanced across the street and their eyes met. Her eyebrows skyrocketed in surprise, but her heart beat didn't skip or jump in fear. "Huh," she whispered. Then she shrugged, curled her hand into his hand, apparently done with beating around the bush, said, "I'll tell my dad you said hi, okay? Good to see you, Derek." Then she pulled Isaac into the shop and left Derek to his wandering. Her heart beat hadn't even skipped with a lie when she said _good to see you_ which meant she was actually happy to see him. Or at least that it wasn't unpleasant to see him.

_The devil you know_, he figured tiredly. He turned around and headed into the grocery store, which had been his goal before Isaac's increased heart beat had given him a heart attack. He decided that after shopping and dropping his groceries in his shiny new apartment he'd set off to tell Scott he was back in town. He wondered vaguely how Scott had taken to being an alpha, since he had pretty much fled town as soon as they finished digging out the others, but he figured the kid had worked it out. Despite the shit he had given the teenager at the beginning of their mess Scott had handled most of this with a lot more grace than Derek would have at his age (or at the age he was now, which was pathetic).

And that, more than anything else, was probably a sign of how tired Derek was of fighting. He had come back, but not really because he wanted to fight the next big bad crazy that was probably lurking around. He had come back because these were a bunch of kids and even though he sure as shit didn't know what the hell he was doing, he was still an adult. He was a big enough person to understand that the state of the town was partially his fault (not entirely, thank fuck, but definitely partially) and he was going to help clean it up.

He had also been very, very curious to see his kids again. (Not that any of these teenagers were his, he wasn't that old. But he had turned one of them and he genuinely cared about at least two of them, so that counted. Sort of. Cora had said it didn't, but Laura would have told him it counted, he was sure of that.) He probably could have just called Stiles and found out what was going on (and who was dating who) but he wanted to see them with his own eyes. Last time he had seen him Stiles had been dirt covered and grasping his dad's arm like the man would vanish if he let go and Scott had been, well, surprisingly okay. But that was probably because he hadn't been almost buried alive while sporting a concussion. Derek mused that that did wonders for a person.

"You've got to be kidding me."

Derek dropped the box of cereal he had been grabbing and swallowed back a yelp. When he turned to look, however, Lydia Martin looked so self satisfied with herself that he knew she knew he had been about to scream anyway. He sighed. What the hell were these teenagers doing all around town, anyway? Didn't they have school?

"It's a Saturday, wolf boy. Or have you been too busy running away to notice simple things, like the day of the week?"

Lydia and Cora sounded a lot alike, unfortunately. And after spending countless weeks in a car with the latter Derek had perfected the sigh necessary to compose himself to deal with their shit. "I was muttering under my breath, huh," he said, not answering her question. There wasn't really an answer to her question, because he had been a little too busy moving around to notice. But he had come back, hadn't he? Didn't that mean anything?"

Now that he was paying attention he could tell Lydia was off-balance and nervous about seeing him again. Her shoulders were straight and rigid and her jaw was clenched, tight and scared, like a cornered cat. He was sure that analogy was fitting, too, because she would probably claw out his eye if he came any closer.

"I'm not going to hurt you or your boyfriend," he said, bending down to pick up his box of cereal. He placed it in his cart and then leaned against the handle, already too tired for this. He had spent all day apartment browsing, he defended himself inside his head, and that shit was hard. Being an adult was hard. He deserved an award or a medal or something.

Stiles would probably make him a medal, when he told him about the apartment and the groceries. That thought probably shouldn't have made him smile, but it did. Lydia took a half step back before turning up her nose at him when he smiled, like she was terrified but not ready to admit it. Which was ridiculous, because she could probably have taken him to town and back if she really wanted to. He wasn't going to tell her that, though, because letting the bossy teenage girl know that he was really an eternal little-brother and a push-over to boot was a terrible idea.

"Good," Lydia said, as if they weren't having the world's most awkward and stilted meeting in the history of this grocery store. And then, without another word, she whirled on her heel and marched away.

_Dammit_, he thought, watching her walk away. He had bet Cora that Lydia and Aiden would have broken up by the time he returned, but he was obviously wrong. He just wouldn't tell her, he figured, glancing down at his cart and wondering what else he needed (milk). If he didn't tell her she would never know and therefore he would technically never lose their bet. He pushed his cart toward the milk section, sulking only a little bit about how wrong he had been concerning Lydia and Aiden. Unless of course Lydia hadn't corrected him to keep him purposefully misinformed. In which case he had a chance at still winning their bet.

(His family used to take bets at everything. His father had always told him it was something Peter and him had done as children and it had spread throughout his family. His mother had hardly ever taken a part, but it was something that Laura had loved. He had never really won a bet with his family before the fire, but keeping their stupid little family tradition alive with Cora felt good.)

Derek was staring at the milk cartons, trying to figure out which brand he liked, when he heard the heart beat to his left jump with panic and then take off like a shot. He jerked his head toward the noise and found, much to his dread, the Sheriff standing down the aisle from him. He dropped his head back and groaned, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose as he felt a headache build. From down the aisle the Sheriff's heart beat slowed before stabilizing and the man laughed, quiet and low under his breath, like he couldn't help it.

"Hale," the man said under his breath, making no move to come closer. "You're not here to cause trouble, are you?" Derek shook his head, more than happy to play along with the Sheriff's long distance conversation scheme if it meant he wouldn't be throttled or arrested in the middle of the grocery store. "Good," he said. Derek watched him nod to himself before the man turned, obviously dropping the conversation. Which, hands down, had to be the easiest of all the meetings that day, even if you took into consideration the fact that Isaac hadn't spoken to him at all.

"I hate this town," Derek muttered under his breath and then fled the grocery store before Melissa McCall could show up and corner him against the breads. After dumping his food in his fridge and the non-perishable items were left scattered on the counter Derek got back in his Honda and drove to the McCalls. He even knocked on the front door, as loud and clear as he could, just because. He knew Scott and Stiles were under the impression that he didn't know how to use doors (or stairs, apparently, which, what the hell was up with _that_? He knew how to use _stairs_, okay, they were easy) and a small childish part of him really wanted to prove them wrong.

Scott, when he opened the door, promptly dropped his soda and screamed.

"Ow," Derek said, reaching up to cover his ears. Soda splashed on his shoes, not that he really cared. At least nobody else had screamed upon seeing him, especially Lydia. That would have been awful.

"You're- _you're back_," Scott choked out. He looked a little bit more like the boy Derek had found searching the woods for his inhaler, especially since it looked like he was about to have an asthma attack. Derek made a face at that thought, because he didn't have the first clue what to do with a werewolf having an asthma attack. He didn't think breaking his arm would be very welcome, though it had stopped Erica's seizures.

"Yes," Derek said, because Scott seemed overly surprised by his return. Which was weird, because he was pretty sure it would have been obvious that he was coming back, especially since he took the time out of his day to tell Scott he was taking Cora home. But whatever, teenagers baffled him. When Scott made no move to respond Derek sighed deeply, rolling his shoulders in a tight circle. "Can I come in?"

"Oh shit, yeah, man, sorry." Scott scooped up the spilled can and then turned away, darting through the hallway and into the kitchen. Derek stepped over the puddle of spilled soda and left the front door open, figuring Scott was getting something to clean up the mess. Sure enough a second later he heard the tap and then there was a wet rag flying at his head, which he caught purely on reflex. "Can you get that, please? Do you want a Coke or something?"

"Pepsi," Derek said. He stooped down and wiped up the soda, running the rag over his boot while he was at it. Scott appeared a moment later with two Pepsis tucked into his elbow, a Coke in one hand and a dry rag in the other. He exchanged the wet rag for the dry and then, when Derek had mopped up the wet spot the previous rag had left behind, took the dry rag from him too. His eyes never quite lost the bugged out quality they had gained upon opening the door, but Derek didn't really care at that point. He accepted his soda, kicked the front door shut and watched as Scott returned the rags to the kitchen, one Pepsi still tucked into his elbow.

"Dude," Scott said, shaking his head. "I really can't believe you came back."

"Why? Because my entire family save one has died, another rose from the dead, both girlfriends I've had in my lifetime committed murder and I was once taken in as a murder suspect, all in this little shitty town in Northern California?"

Scott blinked. "Uh, yeah, something like that."

Derek shrugged, not really caring how that seemed. "Didn't really have anywhere else to go." Scott's face twisted, something like pity and sorrow etched into the uneven line of his jaw. Derek rolled his eyes expressively at the teenager before gesturing to the can of soda. "Stiles here?"

Scott glanced reflexively up to the second floor of his home before nodding. His expression was pretty grim, like a general on a battlefield strewn with the bodies of his fallen soldiers, but it eased after a second. "Yeah, he's up there. Come on, I've got some homework to finish up, but if you want we can catch you up on what you missed while you were gone."

"Works for me."

Stiles was asleep when they entered Scott's room, which had been rearranged since Derek had last seen it. Derek wondered briefly why the teenager hadn't woken up at Scott's scream earlier before he heard the tinny sound of music coming from ear buds and traced the cord with his eyes. Scott only had one chair in his room, the recliner gone, and so Derek dropped down on the edge of the bed, careful not to jostle Stiles, while Scott took the desk chair. Stiles shifted, making a sleepy noise in the back of his throat, and the boy's shins pressed against the small of Derek's back. It made him smile slightly, his body pressing back into the pressure with ease.

"Sc'tt," Stiles slurred, before either of them could say anything.

"Derek's back," Scott said, in lieu of an answer. He still sounded shocked, like everything from his childhood had just been found out to be a lie. Cora would be amused by that when he told her later.

"Hmm, o' course he is," Stiles drawled. He curled more tightly into a ball, his knee pressing into Derek's hip. Derek twisted around to glance back at him and found the teenager fumbling around on the bed, eyes squinted open, as he presumably searched for his mp3 player to turn off his music. Derek spotted it to his left and reached out, nudging it toward Stiles' hands, receiving a small sleepy smile for his help. Scott made a sputtering noise behind him, dragging his attention back to him.

"What do you _mean_, of course he is. No one was sure he was coming back! Actually, we were all pretty certain he was never going to come back! No offense, Derek, but…" Scott trailed off, shrugging, though his mouth still hung open a little bit with shock. But then the boy turned to his best friend again, furrowing his brow in confusion. "Don't tell me you're not surprised he's back…"

Stiles laughed and though the sound wasn't particularly happy it wasn't an awful cruel sound either. "Beacon Hills is his home, Sc'tt," he said, yawning at the end of the sentence. The tinny sound of the music through the ear buds cut off, leaving Derek with the sound of the two boy's heart beats. Scott's was rushed, but Stiles was steady, slow with the last traces of sleep in his veins. The sound reminded Derek of the big cats in the zoo, lounging in the sun. Their hearts had sounded just like Stiles'.

"I rented an apartment on Fifth," Derek said, twisting back around to eye Stiles. He watched as the teenager opened his eyes more fully and beamed at him, watched as the boy moved to purposefully pres his knee harder into Derek's side.

"Yeah," Stiles said. It sounded like a question, so, ignoring Scott's yelp, Derek answered back. He told Stiles about seeing Isaac and Allison, Lydia and then his dad, all while trying to get groceries.

"Not even shopping in this town is safe anymore, huh," Stiles said, teasingly. "Good on you, though, Sourwolf. I'm proud, boo. I'll make you an adult award or something, yeah?"

"You guys are weird," Scott said from behind them, the words quickly followed by the squeak of his desk chair turning. Derek glanced back, but Scott was bent over his homework, obviously deciding that Stiles could fill Derek in on what he missed, since Stiles seemed to be the only person in town not surprised to see him.

"So," Derek said, reaching over for Stiles' unopened Pepsi before twisting fully on the bed and handing it to the boy. He watched the lanky teenager rearrange his limbs on the bed, scooting and straightening until he was sitting upright. His knee wasn't pressed against Derek at all, so Derek kicked off his boots and drew his legs up on the bed, pressing his shin against Stiles' knee. Stiles grinned at him, warm like a ray of sunlight after the rain, and a warm feeling glinted in Derek's chest.

"What'd you miss," Stiles finished, shoulder relaxed. There were deep purple bags under his eyes, but he seemed fine right then. Better than he had been since Derek met him, almost. Derek liked it. Stiles launched into a tale of what Derek had missed in the weeks he had spent traveling, the hand not holding his soda gesturing around with half its usual speed. Occasionally Scott twisted around and interjected something (like when the new girl was brought up, which made Stiles roll his eyes and grin) but for the most part the alpha kept to his homework, growling and swearing at it quietly under his breath.

A week later he returned from grocery shopping to find a piece of construction paper taped to his front door. There was a crudely drawn medal, colored in with crayon, with the words, _congrads on being an actual functioning adult, boo _written in the middle with Sharpie. Derek laughed before pulling it off, careful to keep the tape on it secure so he could put it up on his wall. He took a picture of it and texted it to Cora, who called him an idiot. Derek bought a special packet of stickers the next time he was at the store and, upon seeing Stiles again, put one on his cheek. Scott gave both of them a baffled look, but Stiles laughed, loud and unrestrained, the kind of noise Derek hadn't heard from anybody in years.

It was pretty good to be home, he decided, watching as his _Good Job_ sticker caught the weak autumn sunlight and sparkled.


End file.
